


awakening

by cadyjanis



Series: jatchen [5]
Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Apologies, Character Development, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, F/F, Post-Canon, Sexuality Crisis, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-05-02 05:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19192339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadyjanis/pseuds/cadyjanis
Summary: she peers at janis through the hooded darkness of the truck cab, and despite that she can see the shape of her mouth, her lipstick. how gretchen wants this, wants this more than anything she’s ever wanted in her life, more than she wanted to be free.maybe allowing herself to want it is part of freedom. another step, but it feels like a leap.—gretchen has many realizations the night of spring fling.





	awakening

**Author's Note:**

> i love gretchen wieners a lot that is all enjoy
>
>> **trigger warnings:**   
>  homophobia mention   
>  bullying mention   
>  anxiety attacks

Lost in thought, Gretchen doesn’t notice the sound of the door opening behind her. It isn’t until a tall figure enters her peripheral that she realizes she’s not alone, and looks up in surprise when a low voice tentatively says, “Hey, Gretchen.”

 

“Janis,” she blurts, blinking at the other girl like she’s seeing God. Janis surely appears ethereal, with the entrance’s lights forming a silhouette around her. “Uh, hi.”

 

“Want some company?” Janis asks, sounding out of her depth—Gretchen is a Plastic, after all—but willing to try.

 

Which is new territory for Gretchen, since people don’t often make the effort for her.

 

Taken aback again, Gretchen can merely gape in mute shock. What is an art freak doing asking a Plastic if she’d like to sit together? Not that Gretchen is offended—on the contrary, her wonder merely comes from a puzzled place. And, maybe, she’s slightly flattered that Cady isn’t the only one who saw her as a person tonight.

 

“Um—sure,” Gretchen finally responds, praying she didn’t unintentionally make things awkward. But Janis smiles, just the tiniest bit, like she was hoping she’d say yes.

 

After everything Gretchen helped Regina pull off, it’s the least she can do for this particular girl. And although her confusion grows as Janis quietly lowers herself onto the step beside her, she isn’t about to protest.

 

Janis semi keeps her distance, putting a foot between them and staying silent. The May air isn’t crackling with possibility, and Gretchen mentally slaps herself for expecting otherwise.

 

They’re just two girls who need a break from the overstimulation of school dances. Nothing has to happen. They can be civil and take up the same space.

 

Gretchen’s chest suddenly aches with guilt and shame, because she was complicit in denying Janis that right for years. She never really thought twice about it or questioned Regina for not wanting a lesbian at her party. She wasn’t there when it happened, but learned everything she now knows from Regina.

 

To this day she has yet to hear Janis’s side of the story. The only one that matters.

 

Gretchen is seventeen, she knows what homophobia is and that it’s wrong, she knows what gay people are and doesn’t really have an opinion other than maybe Regina jumped the gun and her influence on others blinded Gretchen all this time.

 

Gretchen doesn’t want to make excuses for herself, but being caught under Regina’s thumb is a scary and uncomfortable place to be, one move and she’d be squished like a bug. That’s going to change now, and although it feels sort of good to be free, there’s a flicker of panic over what in the world she’s going to do now that Cady and Regina aren’t her leaders.

 

She glances at Janis hesitantly. Maybe Janis joining her out here is a sign, to nudge Gretchen in the right direction.

 

To take initiative of her own life, to make good decisions and be someone Regina wouldn’t like. Someone who is strong and brave and kind.

 

Gretchen doesn’t want to give up on Regina entirely. But she can’t give up on herself, either.

 

Who is Gretchen Wieners and what kind of person does she want to be now that she has all the choices and opportunities in the world to create that person?

 

That’s so scary. But fear isn’t always a negative thing, and if Janis’s speech taught her anything, it’s to not take any shit from people who try to keep you down. And if Gretchen’s fear is all that’s holding her back, that applies to her.

 

Imagine being your own worst enemy this whole time and not even realizing it.

 

“Are you okay?” Janis is saying, effectively breaking through Gretchen’s trance. Gretchen blinks, then blushes with embarrassment for staring.

 

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, looking down at her lap as she adjusts her dress. She can feel an anxiety attack threatening to ruin the moment more than she probably already has. If Janis goes back inside because she’s so weirded out, Gretchen wouldn’t have the courage to follow her.

 

And they might not ever have this again.

 

Janis doesn’t push it, and Gretchen inhales the night air as discreetly and non-nervously as she can. Janis might think she’s weird for wanting to panic over something as simple as wordlessly sitting next to someone.

 

Except there _are_ words, so many of them swirling around inside Gretchen’s head, desperate to be voiced and heard. Apology after apology. Janis Sarkisian deserves more than to be Regina’s and the rest of North Shore’s punching bag, because despite the fact things are changing now that she stood up for herself, nobody has really said sorry to her yet.

 

So if Regina hasn’t apologized, maybe Gretchen should. Not in her place, but owning up to the stuff she did wrong. For calling Janis that word. For laughing with Regina when she should’ve put a stop to her bullying instead.

 

She’s taking another deep breath in preparation to bring it up when Janis beats her to it, turning to her and saying, “Hey, do you wanna get out of here?”

 

Gretchen is stunned into silence again, eyes wide and uncertain. “And go where?”

 

Janis shrugs, and that playful smirk is on her painted lips again. Gretchen’s heart pounds, and it isn’t due to anxiety. Which gives her more anxiety. Because the only reason her pulse ever rises is because of anxiety.

 

So there’s no valid reason Janis Sarkisian should make her heart race. Maybe it’s just the mere prospect of friendship and consolidation that’s getting her worked up.

 

Yes. That’s definitely it. That’s all it is. How fun.

 

“I dunno,” Janis answers softly, a bit coy. “Anywhere you want.”

 

“McDonald’s,” some dormant part of Gretchen’s brain responds almost immediately, and the girl next to her raises her eyebrows, amused.

 

Gretchen only ever spends her time with other girls, but something about being near Janis has a different grasp on her than Karen or Cady do. It’s stirring and weird and electric.

 

So. Perhaps the air is crackling somewhat.

 

Distracted by the look on Janis’s face, Gretchen spaces out again. Janis doesn’t seem to mind, and she gets to her feet and holds out a hand to help her up. Gretchen belatedly understands it’s required of her to accept it, and after only a brief flash of hesitation, she places her hand into Janis’s and stands up.

 

She holds hands with Karen all the time, afraid of being lost in a sea of people who resent her for spilling their secrets. But there’s nobody out here to bite her, and the ocean is calm, settling in the spare seconds she has before she’s escorted down the steps and lets go.

 

She walks across the parking lot at Janis’s side, rather than in front or behind. Finally an equal to some degree, nothing being expected from her.

 

Janis opens her truck’s passenger door for her, something that catches Gretchen off guard. But she climbs in, hoping her reoccurring blush isn’t visible in the darkness.

 

It’s cozy in the cab of Janis’s truck, and Janis puts on the radio for background noise. It’s not til the building disappears from the rear view mirror that Gretchen remembers her phone is in her locker, a limb left behind.

 

But she’s okay. Her heart leaps for a moment, then calms again, as calm as it can be right now. She really only needs that, because her phone isn’t going to help her say what she has to.

 

Again, the silence isn’t tense or bad. Other than Karen, Janis is probably someone Gretchen can be her most comfortable around. It’s safe, and easy.

 

Janis speaks only to ask what Gretchen wants as they wait in the drive thru line, then orders for them. Gretchen’s stomach growls, sore with nerves and lack of proper sustenance. She planned to get through the night by consuming punch spiked with vodka, but she can turn down alcohol for once. Her body and head will thank her for it.

 

Once parked, they roll their windows down to let the fresh air in, and Gretchen toes off her heels so she can fold her legs up. If you had told her just hours ago that she’d be ditching Spring Fling to grab dinner with Janis Sarkisian, she wouldn’t believe you. But she doesn’t regret it.

 

Her hamburgers are good, and she watches in vaguely disgusted fascination as Janis downs a Big Mac without pausing. There is a moment where they make eye contact, and can’t help but dissolve into laughter, because it really is so ridiculous how they wound up here. Gretchen gives Janis a sip of her soda before she can choke, and her whole face heats up when their fingers touch around the cup.

 

“Thanks,” Janis rasps, and Gretchen smiles bashfully. “Y’know, um—you’re the first person other than Damian or Caddy I’ve hung out with in years.”

 

Gretchen bites her cheek while chewing and acts like it was an accident. “Really?” She pretends to be surprised for dignity’s sake, but isn’t. It’s not news Janis has few friends.

 

“Yep,” Janis confirms, and Gretchen can’t decipher her tone. She wipes off her fingers then digs into her fries, looking out the window.

 

“For what it’s worth,” Gretchen murmurs, and Janis shifts her gaze to her face instead, which is strange. Regina hasn’t given Gretchen her full undivided attention in all the years they’ve known each other. To be seen and heard at the same time is a lot.

 

“Yeah?” Janis presses, for Gretchen had fallen down the rabbit hole of her thoughts.

 

“Oh—um, this is nice,” she finally says, accepting a fry when Janis offers. “I don’t really… I mean, I spend time with Karen, but we’re always _doing_ something. I couldn’t tell you the last time I just sat and ate with someone.”

 

Janis hums, sipping her milkshake. “I thought you were the exact opposite of the definition of chill, but I guess you proved me wrong, Wieners.”

 

Gretchen literally loses her breath, and she has no valid explanation as to why. “Is that a good thing?” she squeaks.

 

“Yeah,” Janis says, shrugging. “You’re cool.”

 

Nobody’s ever told Gretchen she’s cool. She doesn’t really think it applies, but it’s coming from a girl who painted over her expensive blazer for a school dance, so she’ll take it.

 

Janis’s skirt is kind of short. Gretchen finds herself averting her gaze from the tops of her tight-clad thighs. So she doesn’t make this weird.

 

But a small part of her already knows Janis wouldn’t think it’s creepy. As suave as she is, she’d view it as a compliment. Maybe even tell Gretchen where she got her tights, because everyone likes a good pair of fishnets.

 

Gretchen’s mind immediately jumps to _what if I could wear hers?_ and likes that better.

 

She shouldn’t. She really, honestly shouldn’t. But she wants to. She wants to want it. She wants to want it and not be scared of wanting it, just like Janis isn’t scared of anything.

 

Gretchen is not sure if this counts as a gay awakening, but something is certainly stirring inside her, and it isn’t her dinner.

 

Maybe she isn’t straight. Would that be so bad?

 

Everything is so much. It’s all happening so fast, these foreign feelings of longing and hope and wonder. All because of a girl she’s avoided for years, a girl she and everyone else have shunned and mocked and made fun of for something that shouldn’t have happened. So there’s guilt, a lot of it, for even considering the possibility she could be like Janis.

 

She’s not grossed out by the thought. Just embarrassed. Deeply, deeply embarrassed. Like it’s a sacred thing that doesn’t belong to Gretchen, couldn’t even be an option for her to explore. She doesn’t deserve the chance. Right?

 

“What are you thinking about?” Janis inquires, for Gretchen has fallen eerily silent, tapping her manicured fingertips together as she mulls this over. “Shit, are you gonna cry?”

 

“What? No.” Even so, Gretchen rushes to touch her eyes, startled to discover tears brimming. It can’t be bugging her that much. But then Janis’s hand is on her arm, a light, awkward gesture to remind her she’s not alone. A motion of kindness she doesn’t deserve, either. From a girl who’s been denied such compassion, it sends her reeling.

 

“I’m fine,” she gasps, dabbing carefully at her eyes with a napkin. Her heart is loud again.

 

Loud like an ocean, like a lion, like a roll of thunder. She could cover her ears and not be able to drown out the sound of her own heart.

 

And then she’s sobbing, unable to fight the waves of fear and confusion any longer.

 

Janis is quick to clear off the spot between them, putting their trash in the bag and setting it on the floor of the truck. She scoots closer to Gretchen, winding her arms around her in an almost protective manner, and Gretchen leans against her, heaving.

 

“Shhh,” Janis soothes, stiff and bewildered, but trying her best. She combs her fingers through Gretchen’s curls, and to be treated with such gentleness just sends Gretchen even further down her spiral.

 

“I’m sorry,” she weeps, head in her hands. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

 

“It’s…fine, what are you sorry for?”

 

Janis is just being nice. There’s no way she can’t have any inkling as to why Gretchen is crying. At least it feels like it should be obvious. It should be staring her right in the face.

 

“ _Everything_ ,” Gretchen repeats, and stops caring if her makeup smears, because Janis Sarkisian does not give a shit and neither should she.

 

“Okay, that’s still not a broad enough explanation,” Janis answers curtly, but squeezes her arm a moment later to show she’s not already totally fed up with her.

 

Which Gretchen would completely understand if she was. Most people find her exhausting.

 

Hell, she finds _herself_ exhausting.

 

“I just—” Gretchen hiccups, trying to breathe, to calm down, to not humiliate herself more than she already has. “I’m sorry. For everything Regina did. What I helped her do.”

 

Janis is quiet, her hands pausing their strokes of comfort. “Um. Okay,” she finally says, unsure if she’s supposed to be reassuring or not. “Thanks.”

 

No, no, no, Gretchen thinks. This isn’t how she wants it to go. She really means it, but Janis has to believe her, and clearly doesn’t. Janis pulls away to retrieve more napkins for her still-weeping and distraught companion.

 

“I mean it,” Gretchen says around a gasp. “None of it should’ve happened. She shouldn’t have…done what she did. And I made it worse all this time and I’m s-sorry.”

 

Now Janis listens, patient yet somber, a hand on Gretchen’s leg without either of them thinking about it. “Okay,” she echoes slowly, then softens her naturally defensive tone when she adds, “I, uh, I appreciate it, Gretch. You can…stop crying.”

 

Gretchen laughs breathlessly, attempting to dry her streaming eyes. “I know, I’m sorry.”

 

Janis shakes her head then, looking guilty for being inept at assisting a Plastic in need. But this Plastic doesn’t blame her, not one bit. “Don’t be. For crying, at least. It’s alright.”

 

Gretchen takes a few deep breaths, genuinely concerned she’ll vomit her dinner in poor Janis’s truck. Thankfully she does not, and after a couple minutes she manages to compose her tears for now. Swallowing down another sob, she whispers continuing her previous apology, “I know her being a tyrannical hellbeast isn’t an excuse, so I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of it and I’m really sorry it happened.”

 

Janis is beginning to look unsettled at the consistent reminder of Regina screwing her over, but says softly, “Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

 

Gretchen rubs her temple, trying to ward off a headache brought on by crying. “I don’t wanna be a bad person,” she murmurs. “I’ve hurt people, too, and I hate it… I don’t wanna be like her, Janis. But I don’t know who I am if I’m not a Plastic.”

 

“I thought so, too,” Janis replies thoughtfully after a moment, and Gretchen looks at her. “After it happened, I had nobody. And we were friends for a long time. Long enough for me to kinda be a Plastic myself. I thought that was how girls were supposed to look and behave. I thought I had to be this person I knew I wasn’t to make Regina happy. And when she ditched me and turned the whole school against me, I didn’t know who the fuck I was or what I should do.”

 

Gretchen nods, stomach aching from how deeply that resonates with her. Janis sighs heavily, a tired look on her face. “So, I get that,” she mutters, eyes on her hands in her lap, almost like she feels shy or ashamed for bringing it up, for admitting she used to be in Gretchen’s shoes. “And I was lost for a while, too.”

 

Gretchen swipes at her eyes. “What did you do to get you back?”

 

Janis barks a laugh, startling her. It’s not a laugh, really, more of a short burst of audible anger.

 

“Therapy,” she deadpans, and Gretchen flinches, able to hear the scorn and irritation in Regina’s voice that day she told Cady Janis went to art therapy—air quotes and all, like it lacks value and necessity. Like Janis ending up there wasn’t Regina’s fault.

 

Gretchen also remembers how she herself cackled upon flipping to Janis’s burn book page, and had zero issues calling her that slur in front of Cady. At the time, it didn’t matter to her. Cady was naive and didn’t know what it meant. But that memory jumps out at Gretchen as if to say, _See? You can’t be like Janis if you made fun of her. You called her that word without a care in the world. You’re not a nice person._

 

Maybe she wasn’t then. But she really, really wants to be now. Turning out like Regina is the last thing Gretchen wants—except she already has, and needs to become someone new.

 

“I’m better than I was then, obviously,” Janis is saying, and there’s a faint strain in her voice. “I’m me now. I know myself more, and I like her. And maybe Regina was right, maybe I am a lesbian,” and Gretchen’s breath hitches, hearing the word out loud, and there’s no shame in the way Janis says it, “but I’m more than that. And I’m still working on me. I’ve done stupid shit this year, too, it wasn’t just Cady’s fault.”

 

Gretchen goes to say she gets why Janis concocted that plan, but waits for her to finish. Janis takes her hand then, random but not unappreciated.

 

“I’m sorry we messed with you,” Janis continues. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you as a person, either. I mean, Regina definitely isn’t,” and they share a snarky giggle, “but I’m sorry we made you think badly about yourself. It was selfish. I hope you know you’re more than that.”

 

Gretchen shrugs. “I’m trying to believe it.”

 

“Well, you should, because you are,” Janis insists, squeezing her hand. “But, anyway. Finding out who you are is long and hard and weird. It doesn’t happen overnight. But it happens. It took me five years to realize making myself happy means leaving Regina alone. I’m not gonna fuck with her life anymore. It didn’t make mine any better.”

 

“Were you even a little satisfied when she got hit by the bus?” Gretchen asks meekly.

 

Janis smirks. “Why, were you?”

 

She looks down at her then, and Gretchen feels this tug in her gut when their eyes meet. It’s just a glance of morbidly amused solidarity, but Janis’s eyes are so, so pretty.

 

Gretchen snickers and hides her face in Janis’s shoulder. “A little bit,” she mumbles, and Janis actually laughs this time.

 

“I will admit, I _was_ horrified,” she says, and pauses. “A little bit.”

 

Gretchen giggles again, and it’s like there’s bubbles bursting in her chest. She’s never laughed or joked with Janis before, and it’s kind of nice.

 

“I get why you did it,” Gretchen finally tells her. “And maybe she deserved it.”

 

“Not us messing with her diet, we shouldn’t have done that,” Janis confesses. “But her cheating on Aaron was bound to end in disaster, and it was only a matter of time before you and Karen got sick of her shit…”

 

“Without your help,” Gretchen adds teasingly. Janis actually blushes, and it’s lovely.

 

“Well. Yeah.” She clears her throat. “But, uh. I’m looking forward to this summer. It’s felt like the longest year ever.”

 

Gretchen nods. “Yeah. And the most meaningful. It’s funny, though, because I always thought your senior year was supposed to be the best.”

 

Janis makes a thoughtful face. “It still might be. For everybody.”

 

Gretchen chews the inside of her cheek contemplatively. “Karen’s parents are thinking of having her go to private school next year,” she murmurs, eyes stinging again. “A small one so it’s not so stressful, and her teachers can do more for her. Obviously I want her to go where she can make progress, but… When senior year starts for me, I’m not gonna have anyone.”

 

“That’s not true,” Janis rebukes gently. “You’re still friends with Caddy, right? You have her. And I bet if you put yourself out there and try to make amends with certain people, you’d be surprised at how many will start to like you.”

 

“What’s there to like?” Gretchen mutters hopelessly.

 

“Hey, Wieners, don’t say that,” Janis argues, nudging her elbow to Gretchen’s. “By then I’m sure there’ll be lots to like. If you want to be a better person, now’s your chance. The first step can be really hard, but you gotta take it at some point. I sound like a pamphlet you find at a therapist’s office, Jesus Christ,” she mutters, and Gretchen hums a laugh. “I mean it, though. I started at rock bottom. And if I can take the step, so can you. You’re never too old to make change.”

 

Gretchen fully rests her head on Janis’s shoulder now, closing her eyes and taking a breath. She is very tired all of a sudden. But she feels significantly better than she did before Janis found her, and that’s saying something.

 

“You’re a good person, Janis,” Gretchen muses aloud, without really meaning to.

 

But once she realizes she said it, she doesn’t regret it.

 

“Thanks,” Janis replies after a very long pause, like she was so taken aback by the compliment it briefly thrust her into another plane of existence. “So are you.”

 

“Hm. Don’t say that just yet.”

 

“I mean it. You are. Bad people don’t admit they fucked up and should do something about it. And you need someone to root for you before you’ve even done anything. Right?” Another arm nudge, coaxing a smile to Gretchen’s face.

 

“Right,” she repeats, nodding.

 

“So, yeah,” Janis sighs, and there’s a noise somewhere in her pocket then. Rolling her eyes, she retrieves her phone, informing Gretchen it’s a text from Cady. “ _WTF, where did you and Gretchen go?_ ” she reads, mimicking the peppy girl’s voice, and Gretchen laughs.

 

“Having…dinner,” Janis narrates as she taps out a reply. “At…McDonald’s. Fries emoji. Tonight has been…very weird.”

 

“I agree,” Gretchen says, wondering what Cady will think.

 

And she’s not as panicked as you’d think she’d be upon realizing Cady could assume they’re on a spontaneous date.

 

Which they kind of are. Just dinner and an intense therapy session.

 

Like Karen trying a different school, progress for Gretchen has to start somewhere, and starting for her means willing herself not to overthink for once. This is where she begins.

 

“Want me to take you home?” Janis asks, putting her phone away.

 

“Uh, sure,” Gretchen says, trying not to seem too disappointed, then remembers where hers is. “Ah, my stuff is in my locker. We have to go back.”

 

Janis shrugs, scooting back to start the engine. “Okey dokey.”

 

That’s far more endearing than it probably should be. Face warm, Gretchen offers to throw out their garbage real quick, needing the fresh air, and Janis laughs watching her jog to a nearby trashcan and back in her heels.

 

“Stooop,” Gretchen whines, but shoves at her arm playfully. “You couldn’t run in these.”

 

“Oh, yes, ma’am, I could,” Janis counters, jokingly aghast.

 

It’s pleasant and easy the drive back to school, and they’re singing along to a song they both happen to like when they pull in. People are filtering out to head to dinner or home themselves, and Gretchen stops singing when she sees Regina being greeted by her mother at the curb.

 

“That is bleak,” Janis comments under her breath as she parks.

 

Gretchen snorts and scratches at her neck.

 

“Okay. I’ll wait here while you run in,” Janis tells her politely.

 

“Oh, you’re not—you aren’t gonna go see your friends?” Gretchen asks, surprised.

 

“I dunno, they seem busy.” Janis points, and Gretchen sees Cady and Aaron saying goodbye to Damian, who’s holding hands with Shane Oman, of all people. Janis cusses when she realizes who that is, and Gretchen squeaks, covering her mouth.

 

“He is _not_ about to get his ass plowed by Shane fucking Oman,” Janis hisses.

 

Struggling not to erupt into hysterical laughter, Gretchen says, “Shane won twice tonight.”

 

“Oh, shut the fuck up. Oh my _God._ ”

 

Gretchen doesn’t realize til later she didn’t even take Janis’s aggressive tone as an insult.

 

And so they sit there watching the two happy couples—til someone raps at Gretchen’s window.

 

“Gah! Oh, Karen,” Gretchen gasps, and rolls it down. A beaming Karen waves, one hand holding Marwan Jitla’s with Gretchen’s phone in the other.

 

“Hi!” she exclaims. “I got your phone. I can’t believe you forgot it, silly goose.”

 

Gretchen laughs, and the sleek case is cold on her fingers, like it’s an abandoned relic returned to her after a long time. “Thanks, babe,” she says to Karen, who reaches in to return the hug.

 

“Brain emoji, no problem,” Karen says, then finally notices who Gretchen is in the truck with. “Hi, Janis! Cady said you guys went to McDonald’s. That’s so cute. Like, facepalm emoji, I had no idea you guys had a date!”

 

Janis huffs a laugh, and Gretchen turns red. She goes to protest, to tell Karen all they did was get a bite to eat and it didn’t mean anything. But it did, in a way, and Gretchen can explain later. Everyone has somewhere to be right now. That can wait.

 

“Yeah, it was nice,” Gretchen responds in earnest. “Where you guys headed?”

 

“Marwan’s house!” Karen shouts, a tad too loudly.

 

“Oh, okay,” Gretchen says before she can get too detailed. Marwan looks happy, though, and as long as he treats Karen with the respect she deserves, Gretchen doesn’t really care.

 

They say goodbye then, and Gretchen and Karen blow each other kisses. Gretchen has to heave a sigh of relief when they’re gone, and hides her face in her hands.

 

“Don’t mind her, I’ll tell her later,” she assures Janis, who waves a hand dismissively.

 

“Nah, it’s cool,” she says, looking behind as she backs out. “I don’t mind it being called a date if you don’t.” And then she winks. Which is so rude.

 

Gretchen is so thrown she can’t think of anything to say, and bites her lip as she looks down at her lap, running a fingertip over the line of her phone case. Her heart is beating loud and fast again. It’s a beautiful sound.

 

The only words they exchange now are directions to Gretchen’s house. Gretchen is almost sad when the truck pulls onto the Wieners’ expansive driveway, their million dollar house waiting for her. She has a flash of anxiety then, unsure if she’s supposed to invite Janis in or not, unsure if she’s ready for that and if she even wants her to come inside.

 

A light turns on in the den, and then she sees her robe-clad mother open the blinds to the front window, probably wondering who the hell just parked their ugly truck in her driveway.

 

“Shit,” Gretchen mutters, quickly hopping out so her mom can see it’s her before Mrs. Wieners can call the police. “Hi, Mommy! Just a minute!”

 

Her mother gives a thumbs up through the window, then disappears.

 

“God. Sorry,” Gretchen says, face on fire, as she climbs back into the truck.

 

“No worries,” Janis says kindly, looking like she totally understands.

 

Of course she does. She understands a lot.

 

“Uh, anyway.” Gretchen has her phone, so all she has to do is say thank you and goodnight and get out. She doesn’t exactly feel glued to the seat, more like someone pressed pause and she’s buffering. Preparing to keep going.

 

She peers at Janis through the hooded darkness of the truck cab, and despite that she can see the shape of her mouth, her lipstick. How Gretchen wants this, wants this more than anything she’s ever wanted in her life, more than she wanted to be free.

 

Maybe allowing herself to want it is part of freedom. Another step, but it feels like a leap.

 

An awakening of some sort, a bird taking flight.

 

“Thank you,” she utters, voice barely above a whisper, and Janis nods once.

 

Feeling like there’s more to say but lacking the words, Gretchen leans in to plant a swift kiss on Janis’s cheek, and Janis raises her eyebrows in surprise, but doesn’t object. Her beautiful eyes, eyes that have seen so much, get real big and soft as Gretchen gets out of the truck, shutting the door behind her gently.

 

Her mother turned the porch light on, and unlocked the door for her. Fingers on the handle, she turns to wave at Janis, who is so stunned by her apparent boldness it takes a second for her to return the gesture. Laughing to herself, Gretchen opens the door and steps inside, able to feel every single part of her body like she was given an electric shock. She skips to the den window to look out, watching Janis exit the driveway in a sort of stupor.

 

“I didn’t see who that was,” her mom pipes up suggestively, standing in the den’s entrance. “Did he walk you to the door?”

 

“Mhm,” Gretchen replies airily as Janis’s truck rolls out of sight. It’s a white lie, but one she has to tell for now. She goes to her mother then, wrapping her in a hug.

 

“Oh, hello,” Mrs. Wieners says affectionately, stroking her hair. “Did you have a nice time?”

 

“Yes,” Gretchen says honestly, smiling into her shoulder.

 

Once in her room, she toes off her heels and flops onto her bed, tapping into her phone for the first time in two hours. She thumbs through countless notifications, not really reading or caring what they are. Her mind can only fixate on Janis.

 

She puts a hand over her restless stomach, phone down so she can just think. She feels heavy and weightless at the same time. Like she can conquer anything but also needs help.

 

Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. Janis wouldn’t want her to shy away from asking for what she needs from other people.

 

So she won’t. And she won’t shy away from herself, either. She should run at this new Gretchen with open arms. To hug her and say, “We can do this. It’s time.”

 

For once, Gretchen Wieners is not worried. When she thinks of the future, it doesn’t frighten her. She can learn to live without, and she will. She feels calm. And now she’s not afraid to want anything.

**Author's Note:**

> sad to announce this will be my last oneshot for a while. i need to focus on myself + my studies and haven’t had much inspiration to write lately. i hope you all understand! passengers will continue to update weekly since it’s already written, but oneshots are on hiatus for the time being. thank you immensely for the love and support you’ve shown my stories the past year. i’m a better person and writer because of my time writing for this fandom, which isn’t over, just on hold for a bit. so, as always, thank you for reading, and kudos and comments are fetch ♡


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